Two Gentlemen of Verona

Duke of Milan. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you,
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight.

Thurio. Since his exile she hath despised me most,
Forsworn my company and rail'd at me,
1455That I am desperate of obtaining her.

Duke of Milan. This weak impress of love is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat
Dissolves to water and doth lose his form.
A little time will melt her frozen thoughts
1460And worthless Valentine shall be forgot.
[Enter PROTEUS]How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman
According to our proclamation gone?

Proteus. And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do:
'Tis an ill office for a gentleman,
Especially against his very friend.

Duke of Milan. Where your good word cannot advantage him,
Your slander never can endamage him;
1495Therefore the office is indifferent,
Being entreated to it by your friend.

Proteus. You have prevail'd, my lord; if I can do it
By ought that I can speak in his dispraise,
She shall not long continue love to him.
1500But say this weed her love from Valentine,
It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio.

Thurio. Therefore, as you unwind her love from him,
Lest it should ravel and be good to none,
You must provide to bottom it on me;
1505Which must be done by praising me as much
As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine.

Duke of Milan. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind,
Because we know, on Valentine's report,
You are already Love's firm votary
1510And cannot soon revolt and change your mind.
Upon this warrant shall you have access
Where you with Silvia may confer at large;
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy,
And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you;
1515Where you may temper her by your persuasion
To hate young Valentine and love my friend.

Proteus. As much as I can do, I will effect:
But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough;
You must lay lime to tangle her desires
1520By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes
Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows.

Proteus. Say that upon the altar of her beauty
1525You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart:
Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears
Moist it again, and frame some feeling line
That may discover such integrity:
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
1530Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
After your dire-lamenting elegies,
Visit by night your lady's chamber-window
1535With some sweet concert; to their instruments
Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead silence
Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.

Thurio. And thy advice this night I'll put in practise.
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver,
Let us into the city presently
To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music.
I have a sonnet that will serve the turn
1545To give the onset to thy good advice.